who gave me a fake name
is calling me a liar.
He says that I’m ruining his life
when what I’m really doing is saving my own.
He sees my self-preservation as selfish
and I suppose from his side
of our war
my choice probably
feels like abandonment.
The idea that
I have a choice
Here at the end of all things
finally sprung from the shadows
he tries to gaslight me,
but I am standing in my vengeful sunshine
and no longer need his light source.
So I push them over,
gas, light, accelerant, flame.
Scorched earth policy,
leaving nothing in my roiling wake,
proud to char black all the things he invented,
all the things he pretended to be.
The fire flickered out
so I walled in his dark city
piled bricks and stones of survival
in a desperate border
to contain the annihilation.
I can still see over the wall
so I flood it too,
a drowned town for the good of us all;
I pour concrete to seal in the history,
hope someday they find fossils of our story
and learn something from the extinction.
And when I visit his city
I still feel the crush of the bricks,
the concrete suppression,
the breathing in of water,
the drowning without dying.
And maybe that concrete
will never set,
but I hope
the fire and the water
and the walls
will keep him in.